


The Solitary Fae

by SpiteMeister



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Fae Bilbo, Faerie AU, M/M, Seelie, Unseelie, Wings, social angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-07 02:51:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1882317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiteMeister/pseuds/SpiteMeister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/11476.html?thread=23772884#t23772884:</p><p>"I've always been interested in the Seelie/Unseelie myths, and I'd like a fic where Bilbo is one of the solitary faeries (still a hobbit tho) and the dwarves are bonded to the Unseelie court and they don't like the Seelie like AT ALL (Elves) and Bilvo's all confused and they have to explain about how Seelie doesn't necessarily mean good and Unseelie doesn't necessarily mean evil and not all solitary fey are good/bad (eg Bilbo v Smaug) and all that crap.<br/>Bonus points if Bilbo was really nervous around the dwarves cos they're all Unseelie and scary<br/>BONUS points if they have wings cos why not ;)<br/>BONUS BONUS points if you actually know what the hell I'm talking about."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably be a stand-alone, depending on the level of interest.

“A what?” Thorin managed to ask after almost choking on his ale.

“A hobbit,” the wizard quipped.

“Care to explain?”

He had heard of hobbits, of course, but mostly in regards to their plump little bodies being lifted into the air by delicate little wings. Rather like bumblebees. This was usually following derision for their alignment with the Seelie Courts of the Elves.

“The one of whom I am thinking is a solitary hobbit.”

“But I thought-”

“No, no – his Father's family aligned with the Seelie. Which is to expected of the Bagginses. But his Mother's family tended to align with the Unseelie. Which is odd, I grant you, as his Mother, Belladonna, was the diplomat to Rivendell, but it certainly explains why their match was favored...”

Thorin could feel his eyes glaze over as the wizard rambled. Two men had just walked into the tavern standing rather close to one another. The barkeeper was serving a rowdy table. Oh my, the two men were going upstairs with a barmaid. Another barmaid was struggling to close a window. By the look of the frame, it would take a carpenter to sort out that mess. A brawl had broken out at the rowdy table and now the barkeeper was scampering away.

“Thorin!” the wizard hissed.

“Pardon me. Have we come to the point?”

Gandalf huffed. “The point _is_ , is that in order to defeat a solitary fey, and to round out an unlucky number, is that you must ask Bilbo Baggins yourself to join this Quest.”

“Is that what he told you?”

“Oh dear,” Gandalf said as he leaned back, stroking his beard, “I haven't yet asked him.”

Thorin considered pitching himself into his bowl of stew.

o0o

“Good morning,” Bilbo said the strange old man. There was something familiar about him, and Bilbo sensed magic beneath the appearance. Once the man started going on about the meanings of 'good morning' Bilbo knew exactly who he was. Well, shoot. Perhaps he could hide the fact that he recognized Gandalf. He maintained his passive face – or at least the confused veneer – and willed his wings to stay still. Bilbo worked on a way to semi-politely extricate himself from the conversation. He did so by getting the post.

The post he always put in the box himself for just such a purpose. It always seemed to work when pesky neighbors came around, asking impertinent questions.

“Good morning,” he said again – more of a farewell this time – hoping that his method had worked. And then Gandalf invoked his mother's name. Well played, Wizard. Now he had to pretend that he was slowly recognizing Gandalf. Which meant a less-polite dismissal. Damn. Bilbo knew, once his was in the smial, that this was not the end of it. Impolite dismissal always meant stirring up trouble.

He was absolutely right, of course, but he hadn't expected to be proven right so soon. An excellent move on the Wizard's part. He wondered if his feigned ignorance would prevent dwarves from coming in, but he should have known better than to try his methods on the Unseelie. The control over his wings he had had in the morning did not come to him in the evening. He was appalled to find himself scurrying along at the aid of his wings, and considered strapping the bothersome things down and covering them with a different robe. Something he never did inside his home. The dwarves seemed to find it amusing, and Bilbo found the defiance in himself to at least refuse to be ashamed of himself.

When the leader of the group gave him the once-over in front of everyone, though, he cursed himself for not actually doing it.

o0o

The Shire was a chaotic mash of Seelie and Unseelie Glamour. Gandalf had told him to stick to the Unseelie paths, which was convenient for a wizard who could easily distinguish between the two. But some of the Unseelie paths were disguised as Seelie paths, forcing Thorin to guess at forks in the road. He took the wrong path twice, and some hobbits had been kind enough – or fearful enough – to send him along the right way. At last he stood before the door. He could almost hear the wizard's amused question, “Yes, but why are you coming alone?” Thorin mockingly repeated it aloud under his breath as laughter bubbled out from the Hobbit Hole. He knocked on the door, effectively silencing the merry gathering.

 _Good_ , he thought to himself.

He was greeted warmly by his kin, and ushered into a chair. Balin's eyes twinkled at him mischievously, knowing that Thorin had circled the hobbit in order to determine if the rumors of hobbits' wings were true. They were. Hobbits also seemed to wear attire with an opening in the back for the bases of their wings. And apparently, hobbits were about as harmless as bumblebees, too. Bilbo was flitting to and fro, setting out the last of the stew for Thorin, mopping up the mud in the entryway, and quite possibly listening in on the conversation at the dinner table. Every so often his wings fluttered, lifting him a couple inches off the ground mid-step.

And then came time for the contract. Bofur must have known what he was doing, because everyone, including Thorin, had wondered how strong those little wings were. When Bilbo keeled over backward, they crumpled a little bit, but did not break. Question answered.

As the hobbit recovered, almost comically reaching behind his back to straighten out his wings, Thorin discussed with Balin the problem of Bilbo's alignment.

“He seems to adhere to both court codes,” Balin said, “save the most extreme of either.”

“Indeed?” Thorin asked, though such a revelation was fitting to the Shire. “I can see where the Seelie influence lies, though I have yet to detect anything Unseelie about this _gentlehobbit_ ,” he said bitterly. What had Gandalf been thinking?

“Oh no?” Thorin's mouth snapped shut at Balin's questioning tone. “Can you not sense within him the passions and magic?” They both turned their heads to the room where Bilbo sat as Gandalf helped him settle his wings. “I believe that deep down, he longs for a change in his life. Whether or not he can come to terms with that desire before the sun rises will determine whether or not we have a burglar.”

The Company agreed to stay the night, the hope unspoken among some that the hobbit would be with them in the morning. Thorin faced away to roll his eyes as a betting pool was started by Nori. So professional.

o0o

Thorin had no strong intuition one way or the other as to whether the hobbit would join them. He had to admit he felt some small relief when the hobbit showed up, though. As well as some regret about not joining the betting pool; the pay-off was good. When he looked at Bilbo, he suddenly saw what Balin had: the desire for change. He tried not to look too long, though, because once on the pony, the wings were all a-flutter with nervousness.

The first days were good, as no imprudent questions were raised either by Bilbo or the dwarrow regarding alignment. In fact, Bilbo had a winning personality, and particularly endeared himself to some of the Company with one or two jabs at Gandalf. It was only after the incident with the trolls that factionalism became apparent in the Company.

“Dwarves and trolls are Unseelie,” Bilbo spluttered. “Why was I the one who had to talk to them? I-I-I am a _Baggins_ for heaven's sake!”

Muttering halted. Only Oin asked what was going on before he was hushed by his brother. Gandalf looked uneasily between Bilbo and Thorin, and then proceeded to herd the nearest standers-by away.

“Come speak with me, halfling,” Thorin grumbled. Out of the corner of his eye he saw scrunched wings flapping, by Bilbo followed obediently.

They settled near a brook, where Thorin removed his boots and put his naked feet in the water. Bilbo silently tried to straighten out his wings. Though Thorin didn't stare, he enjoyed knowing that the burglar was struggling.

“We don't normally talk about being Unseelie. It is a status we share with hateful beings … those more reviled than we by the Seelie Court of the Elves.”

Bilbo paused in his efforts.

“I won't bore you with the details of how Durin's Folk were exiled from the Seelie, but I will tell you that there is no single, united Unseelie Court. There is still one Code, of course, but it is interpreted differently by the different Courts. For instance, there is a treaty between several Orc tribes and one of the Dwarf clans based on a mutual interpretation.” Thorin shot Bilbo a glare, “And don't you dare tell anyone that you know that, or even that I told you. Not even to others in the Company.”

Bilbo nodded furiously, eyes wide, and resumed his efforts on his wings. Thorin sighed.

“Would you like help?”

“If it's not too much of a bother.” Thorin indicated that it wasn't, and the hobbit turned so his back was to the dwarf, who gently set to work. The tips of Bilbo's ears were bright red. His wings were almost gossamer, shining various colors in the morning light.

“This is why we're not supposed to be Solitary,” Bilbo said quietly.

“May I ask why you are?” the dwarf said before he could stop himself.

“Well…neither side of my family considers me a hobbit.”

“Wh…what? Why?” Thorin had come to a full stop, one of the wings between his hands.

“I mean, they liked that Mother and Father had married, because it symbolized harmony between Seelie and Unseelie. I guess they just weren't expecting me.”

“What do you mean?” Was there some great flaw in Bilbo that Gandalf had intentionally concealed?

“Erm…I…”

“Nevermind. You do not have to speak of it. What matters is that you are here now with us.” It had spilled out of Thorin's mouth. But he wasn't about to apologize.

Bilbo's wings were set right, but something remained unsaid. Neither was sure what that something was.

“My mother, she…” the hobbit trailed off. He scooted closer to the water and plunked his feet in. Thorin gave him a moment to think. “Mother was considered Unseelie by the Seelie, and Seelie by the Unseelie. She seemed to find acceptance by the Elves of Rivendell. And the Wolves of the Fell Winter-” Bilbo shuddered, “The Wovles eventually…this always sounds crazy when I say it, and sometimes I wonder if that's what even happened, but the Wolves, in the worst part of the winter, actually _listened_ to her.”

Thorin listened intently, surprised at the darkness that had settled on the hobbit's face. Bilbo's voice dropped to where it was barely audible.

“I remember, one night, there was a wolf in our home. It was sleeping in front of the fire, and I ran back to my room. In the morning, Mother said she knew nothing of it. It kept happening, every night. And then Father passed away. Mother said the wolf was just an omen, but I was never sure.

“Until the bitter end, Father was strict about the Seelie Code. I mean, he was never strict with me or Mother, but he was adamant about following it himself. He especially loved the idea that beauty is life. But there was never anything conventional about the beauty he loved. Both of my parents insisted that life is beauty. It never struck me as odd until I read the Codes.” Bilbo laughed ruefully. “I guess my upbringing is what made me odd.”

Thorin considered this. It was distinctly Unseelie to turn such a tenet on its head, but the interpretation was a perfect union of the different worlds. He almost missed Gandalf clearing his throat.

“We have a guest,” the wizard said. Bilbo stood up, stamping out his feet and dusting off his waistcoat. With a smile to Thorin, he left.

“I trust all went well?” Gandalf asked.

“It would seem so.” Thorin slowly got to his feet, and picked up his boots to walk back to the camp. He hadn't gotten far before Gandalf stopped him dead in his tracks with those fateful words.

“I assume he told you about the wolf.”

Thorin did not turn around. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. It had not seemed strange from Bilbo's mouth, but from a wizard it suddenly seemed like frightening thing. “He told me about _a_ wolf.”

“I see.”

“We should regroup and be ready to move by nightfall.”

Gandalf had no response, but Thorin knew he hadn't heard the last of it. If Thorin was to hear Bilbo's secrets, he would rather hear them from the burglar himself.


	2. Chapter 2

When Gandalf had mentioned a guest, Bilbo had not expected another wizard. Least of all a wizard who was less put together than Gandalf. The rest of the Company acted like nothing had happened between them and their burglar, and Bilbo was more than happy to do the same. The respite was short though; soon enough the cries of wargs reached them in their hiding space, and their only way out was to run while the new wizard – Radagast – lured the wargs away.

Bilbo cursed their luck. Not only were they running on foot, they were running on a mostly-open plain, ducking behind large rocky outcrops. Gandalf seemed to know where they were going, even though he remained mum about their destination. This made Thorin – and by extension, Dwalin – angry. Bilbo now weighed the benefit of having his wings out in the open: sure, they helped him to keep up with the others, but if the wargs and their riders found the Company, the exposed back would be an easy target for the archers.

And the wargs did find them. Between the worry for the safety of the Dwarves who killed a warg and its rider, and the fear of getting his wings ripped off, he somehow had the presence of mind to consider some of the magic he did know. He didn't get a chance to start a spell though, because they were making a break across the open plains again. This time, it was clear that Radagast's diversion had only partially worked. And Gandalf had disappeared. The fear and lonliness were almost too overwhelming for Bilbo to start a spell this time, even though the Dwarves were doing their best to protect him.

“This way, you fools!” Gandalf called from behind a rock. Bilbo gladly went towards him, hoping that the others would do the same. It took almost too long, but once everyone had come down the crevice opening, Bilbo slumped against a wall. The strange sound of a hunting horn didn't disturb him as much as it did the Dwarves. What did concern him was Thorin's identification of an elvish arrow in the body of a dead orc who had tumbled in the way they came. Or rather, the way Thorin identified the arrow was concerning.

It must have shown on his face because Thorin explained it to him as they walked, even though the entire Company was clearly listening.

“Those warg riders were part of a larger Unseelie Court, and it would have been easy enough to confront them.” Bilbo thought he heard a cough from Gandalf, but Thorin went on anyway in a low voice. “It is simple: when two courts of the same Code clash, one will often exterminate the other. Less competition later on that way. But when you confront a part of the Seelie Court – who having now saved us – you run the risk of worsening tensions.”

Bilbo said nothing about how it was very nearly they who had been exterminated, but he could see that Thorin's explanation had hardened the faces of some of the older dwarves. The younger ones were solemn as well, but by the unease in their eyes, Bilbo guessed that they were merely taking cues from their elders.

The path came out to a beautiful view of a large home nestled in a valley. To Bilbo it was as refreshing as a good night's sleep, and it even seemed to undo some of the wariness in the older dwarves' faces. Except for Thorin.

o0o

Thorin called a halt before they could descend into the valley. He didn't want to take the Company this, and when Gandalf pulled him aside, he said exactly as much. Most of the Company took his side, except for Bilbo and the three youngest dwarves, who seemed to be torn between seeking the approval of the older dwarves and seeking the approval of their stomachs. Thorin heard Dwalin quietly tell Bilbo that it just wasn't possible that Gandalf truly understood the rift between Elves and Dwarves because, “he keeps doing things like this.” Thorin took it upon himself to explain the situation to Fili and Kili, and let Balin do the same for Ori. Bilbo remained unconvinced. For the second time that day Thorin decided to speak privately to Bilbo.

“Alerting the Seelie Court of our intentions compromises the chances of success of our mission,” he said softly. They were sitting on a flat rock out of the sight and hearing of the Company. The waterfall was still audible, and they still had a view of the Homely House. Bilbo stretched out his legs and every so often tapped his feet on the ground.

“But what about the map? Surely that's worth a risk?”

Thorin sighed. “Not this level of risk. Once one part of the Seelie Court knows, they all will. We have yet to pass one more region where two other parts of that court reign.”

“You are worried that the journey would end here?”

“I am.”

Bilbo's face fell, but he remained quiet. Thorin was merely relieved that he seemed to understand. As he got up to rejoin the group, Bilbo spoke again.

“I can act as a go-between.”

“It is out of the question.” Thorin went to walk away, but Bilbo grabbed his sleeve. He whipped around, yanking his arm away, and was about to yell at Bilbo for being so bold, but stopped at the pleading look on Bilbo's face.

“I can do it! This is something I can actually do.” Thorin tried to ignore the fact that Bilbo was on his knees, eye-to-eye with him, looking incredibly vulnerable.

“Trust me,” the hobbit said, almost a whisper.

“Not now,” Thorin insisted, turning away again. At that, Bilbo grabbed him by the collar of his fur cloak, dragging him closer.

“What do you mean 'not now'? We have a contract. I trusted you with a secret after you did the same with me. Sweet Elbereth, I let you help with my wings! No one but family and close friends dare to touch each other's wings,” he hissed, shaking Thorin a little. “My mother was Unseelie and she found help here. The Company needs help now! Don't you realize that I can do exactly what she did?”

Their faces were close, and Bilbo was bearing down on Thorin. He reached up to remove Bilbo's hands from his cloak.

“Very well. You'll get your chance.”

Thorin left him there, only now realizing how fast his heart was beating.

o0o

The Elves received them more warmly than Thorin had expected. Not that he had really expected anything. The singing of the denizens had thrown him off temporarily, but it had prepared him for the distinct feel of pervasive Seelie magic. Not that it made him feel any better. At least the hobbit seemed to already be in higher spirits. When they crossed the narrow bridge leading to the Homely House they were promptly invited to dinner by the master of the house – Elrond – and Thorin racked his memories for any scrap of information he might have heard about this lord. The only thing that jumped to mind was that Lord Elrond had a love of learning, and often freely shared his wisdom to those who needed it. Gandalf's motives made more sense, then, but Thorin refused to acknowledge it, even to himself.

He was mildly dismayed when his Company weren't on their best behavior during dinner. He was too tired to apologize on their behalf. However, he was relieved when it was clear that Lord Elrond had no intention of talking business during the first decent meal the Company had had in weeks. Then Thorin noticed that the elves were barely concealing their curiosity around Bilbo. Staring at the wings, whispering behind their hands to each other. Thorin decided then and there that he was not going to apologize for the Company's behavior at all.

“…trolls,” Gandalf finished saying. Perhaps Thorin should have been paying more attention to the conversation at his own table. When he looked at Gandalf and Elrond, they were both looking expectantly back at him. Yes, he should definitely have been paying attention.

“There was a treasure hoard,” Gandalf said slowly, making it obvious that he had changed the direction of the conversation as a favor to Thorin.

“Indeed,” Thorin said uselessly, not sure which way Gandalf was prompting him to go. Some quick thinking saved him, and he hoped that he could play it off as a dramatic pause. “It is concerning that trolls were so close to the frequently-used roads.” Normally, he would have received word from his kin that that particular court was on the move.

“This is how you came by those swords?” Elrond inquired.

Thorin had hoped that he could put off that particular conversation, but he confirmed that this was so.

“No matter – we shall return to the point later.”

Wine was poured into their goblets by a servant, and Elrond waited for them to step away. He studied the map that had somehow made it into his hands, turning it back over to Thorin after informing him that he would not be able to read it for two weeks.

“Pardon?” Thorin asked, blanching at the idea of spending so much time here.

The corner of Elrond's lips twitched upward, and he said, “The information you seek from the map is writ in moon runes. The correct moon for reading it will not be for two weeks.”

Thorin hoped with all his heart that Bilbo could deliver on his promises.

o0o

The first morning of their stay in Rivendell found Bilbo in the kitchens well before breakfast. Not for the last time, Bilbo considered the worth of his efforts. Sure, the dwarrow wanted food that wasn't on the menu, but this didn't seem as important as some of the things he could be doing: negotiating with cooks about proper fare for dwarrow had never been even close to the top of the list of things he'd always wanted to do if he visited Rivendell. The elves seemed to listen, at least, and that was all Bilbo could hope for at the moment.

When he brought the news back to the Company about having secured more reasonable fare, he was met with a less enthusiastic response than he'd anticipated. While they seemed happy about the change in the menu, they also seemed wary, as if they were putting on airs for Bilbo and exaggerating their real response.

Feeling he had no reason to stay with them, Bilbo wandered off again. As he went around a corner, a hand caught him on the shoulder. Thorin was there, with the usual look of seriousness on his face.

“Thank you for doing that,” he said. Bilbo felt himself flush, absolutely certain that his ears were bright red from lobe to tip.

“Not a problem. Really.”

He used all his willpower to keep his wings still. Thorin nodded; Bilbo knew a polite dismissal when he saw it.

Continuing down random corridors, Bilbo noticed that he was getting curious stares from elves. He ducked his head, almost trying to shrink himself to avoid attention. He came upon a small garden which was filled with trees for shade and well-tended verges. He sat on a bench which just barely sheltered from the view of passers-by. Bilbo closed his eyes for a short, light nap.

Almost immediately, he sensed the presence of someone nearby. Cracking an eye open revealed that there was indeed an elf standing at a polite distance from him and staring, albeit with a friendly and open expression.

“Can I help you?” Bilbo asked as politely as he could.

The elf smiled serenely. Bilbo supposed that it was the elvish equivalent of a friendly grin.

“Do you speak Sindarin?” they asked in a lilting accent.

“Very little, I'm afraid. Enough to know planes and names, but that's the extent,” he replied apologetically.

The elf looked at him thoughtfully, tilting their head. After another uncomfortable moment, the serene smile came back. “That is fine,” they said enigmatically, before leaving the garden.

It was perhaps the strangest interaction he had had on the journey so far – save the ones with Gandalf and the Company at Bag End. But in the next few days at Rivendell, it would certainly not be the last time an elf asked an odd question of him.

The next time it happened was that evening, and he was browsing the library. Erestor, the “Chief Counsellor and Keeper of Books” – Bilbo thought it was a lofty title for a librarian, but he supposed it fit for an elf – was helping him choose a book. He kept glancing at Bilbo's wings.

Finally, Bilbo asked, “Is something wrong?”

Unabashedly, Erestor stated, “It has been quite some time since one of the _periannath_ visited Imladris. I never had a chance to ask, from academic curiosity, how it was that their wings managed to bear their bodies.”

Bilbo spluttered, amazed at the rudeness of the question. He managed to say, though, “Is that why everyone looks at me funny?”

The elf seemed unmoved by Bilbo's anger. “Not many races of the fae have wings. I had wondered at the making of _periannath_ for their bodies: the wings must be deceptively strong. Just as their souls. Their appearance is graceful and a thing of wonder.” He bowed. “Excuse my impertinence. I shall take my leave.”

Bilbo was left shocked, standing along in the stacks. He went to leave the library, and Thorin was standing just outside.

“I couldn't help but overhear,” the dwarf said quietly.

Bilbo flushed. “Well?”

“Well, what?” Thorin asked, genuinely confused.

“Do you have anything to add, or did you just stop me to tell me that you heard me go through something embarrassing just now?” Bilbo immediately felt sorry for what he said the second Thorin's eyes narrowed.

“No. I suppose my only concern is that you seem to be getting close to the elves. Remember why you are here in the first place.”

Thorin walked away. Bilbo couldn't believe it.

At dinner that evening, his mortification only increased. Although the elves seemed to have held up their end of the promise to serve food suited to dwarrow, the Company had gone back to the initial attitude toward Bilbo. Somewhat distant. Especially since Lord Elrond had stopped him to ask after his mother. Bilbo quickly and awkwardly explained that his mother had passed some years ago, and barely paid attention to the condolences offered by Elrond. Over the meal, Bilbo caught Thorin watching him with a critical eye. Twelve more days until the moon would be right to read the map. Bilbo was torn between the anxiety to leave and get on with the journey, and the longing to stay and savor each day in The Last Homely House.

He left dinner as early as was polite and made for his room.

It turned out that he could not truly escape his peculiar situation, though. Each of his attempts to intercede on behalf of the Company – in order to make them feel more at home, to apologize for broken furniture or a misused fountain – were all met in the same lackluster manner by the dwarrow, and were taken as an invitation to ask odd – and deeply personal – questions by the elves. The cycle was maddening. Bilbo imagined he could feel the wills of Thorin and Elrond pulling him in opposite directions. Gandalf was almost never around. He was seen at mealtimes, and that was about it.

On the tenth day at Rivendell, Bilbo resolved to avoid as many people as possible, choosing to get his meals directly from the kitchen throughout the day rather than attending the community meals. The solitude was enjoyable and it was exactly what he had needed. By mid-afternoon, he felt brave enough to venture out onto a balcony. He sighed over the view, staying like that for quite some time before Lord Elrond himself appeared at his side. Bilbo tensed, but they remained silent. Once Bilbo relaxed, though, Elrond spoke.

“I would ask if you have been happy with your stay here, but the answers appears obvious enough. Should it make a difference to be said out loud, then I shall say it now: you will always be welcome at Rivendell, Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo felt immensly grateful to hear it from Elrond himself. And the way it had been stated gave no sense of obligation to choose one way or another. He wasn't sure how to respond, so he opted instead to smile.

“I must also apologize for the questions my people have been asking you.”

Bilbo tried to stutter out that it was not necessary for him to do so, but Elrond seemed intent on doing it anyway.

“If I am not mistaken, it has put you in a difficult position with your companions.”

Now Bilbo was silent, because there was no denying the truth of the elf's keen observation. They both stood staring out from the balcony.

“Again,” Elrond said, pausing for a moment before continuing softly, “I am sorry to hear of your mother's passing.”

Bilbo made no attempt to divert the conversation this time. “It was very sudden,” he agreed.

Elrond hesitated. “You are very like Belladonna Took. When she came to Rivendell, she was at odds with her people, and, to some extent, with mine as well. But the conflict was a reflection of something deep within herself. Perhaps a difficulty in separating Seelie and Unseelie forces at work. She was never truly one or the other, and she confided to me that she desperately wished to find a way to become one or the other more perfectly.

“During her time here, I believe she began to see that she was being exactly as she was meant to be.”

Bilbo was rapt by the story that he did not realize right away that Elrond had stopped. “How do you mean?”

Elrond didn't answer right away. Then his gaze fell on Bilbo, and Bilbo felt that the ancient elf was peering directly into his soul.

“The division between Seelie and Unseelie is not as natural as many believe. Belladonna Took was living evidence of that.” The words were stilling sinking in while Elrond continued, “You and she are more alike than you may realize.”

With that parting thought, Elrond bade him a good day, and swept away from the balcony.

The hours between that conversation and dinner time were lost in a haze. Bilbo turned the words over and over in his head, each time getting closer to unearthing a new sense of purpose. By the time the bell rang for dinner, Bilbo was still unsure of what to do, but he thought he had a good idea of where to start.

He intercepted Thorin on the way to the dining area. The leader of the Company seemed equal parts surprised and perturbed at the appearance of the burglar.

“Yes?” Thorin asked curtly.

Bilbo cleared his throat. “I've done everything I said I would and more. It turns out that I didn't have much to do in the first place.”

Thorin's eyes had settled on a spot just beyond Bilbo's face, and Bilbo noticed that his wings had started to flutter minutely. He ignored it for now and pressed on, before Thorin could get a word in edge-wise.

“You have been angry for me at something that is out of my hands. If you had really been listening that day in the library, you would know I have been avoiding, to the best of my ability, the sorts of personal conversations that the elves have been after.”

Thorin frowned. “What did you mean by not having to do much in the first place?”

The hobbit was flummoxed as he realized that Thorin was still on the first part of this conversation. “The elves have no real animosity toward you.”

“I wouldn't expect you to think otherwise.” Thorin went to walk by him, and added, “We can have Balin write up an amendment to release you from the contract if you desire to stay here.”

“What?” Bilbo shouted. Thorin turned, eyebrow raised at the defiance. “I belong here even less than I belong with the Company!”

It astonished both of them. Without reply or second glance, Thorin continued on to dinner. Perhaps Bilbo had been wrong about where to start.

o0o

Thorin had done his best to deny to himself that he was taking Bilbo Baggins's words to heart. But he did start to genuinely feel bad when their burglar failed to show up for dinner. He immediately put it from his mind when, before he left the dinner table, Elrond asked Thorin to meet with him in his study, and to bring his sword. Of course the Elvish weapons had not gone unnoticed. When Thorin sat beside Gandalf in the study, swords resting on their laps, waiting for Elrond to speak, he had the distinct impression that he was not unlike a dwarfling caught doing something naughty.

_He remembered that going into the troll cave, he passed by treasures – some useless, some invaluable – walking through stench and mire toward something that was calling him from the far back. Just behind an outcropping was a stand with several swords. He reached out slowly, seeing Gandalf do the same out of the corner of his eye._

_Pulling it part way out of the sheath, he almost gasped at the beautiful workmanship._

_When Gandalf scolded Thorin for hesitating to take an Elvish blade on some notion of loyalty to race, he had a moment of worry. He had heard of weapons forged by smiths of Seelie Courts which were put under a spell rendering them unusable in Unseelie hands. Thorin took the grip firmly, deciding he may as well try._

_The sword came free, as brilliant as the day it was made. Relief that there was no such spell on the weapon diffused through him._

Elrond asked to see Thorin's blade first, and Thorin found he almost couldn't bear to part with it. He handed it over nonetheless.

“This is Orcrist,” the elf lord said, eyeing the inscription that flowed from the cross-guard onto the blade. “The Goblin-Cleaver.” Then he took Gandalf's sword. Unsheathing it part-way, even though the inscription was entirely on the cross-guard, he stated, “And this is Glamdring – Foe-Hammer – sword of the High King of Gondolin. These were made by my kin.”

The weapons were gently passed back to their bearers.

“You say these were found in a troll cave.”

“Yes,” Gandalf said.

“Plundered from plunderers, then. May these swords serve you well.” It felt like a divine blessing, and Thorin felt a lightness within himself that was unexpected but not unwelcome. He even thought he was up to the task of apologizing to Bilbo. But the elusive hobbit remained hidden away somewhere.

It wasn't until the night that they could read the moon runes that Thorin saw Bilbo again. The latter was noticeably avoiding his gaze. It was not the most important matter at hand, though. With less hesitation than he expected, he gave the map over to Lord Elrond, who placed it reverently on a quartz stone in order to catch more moonlight on the parchment.

Thorin watched the runes appear, listening to the elf translating them for all those gathered around the map. His heart leaped in his chest when Balin stated clearly what the Company would have to do. And then his heart quickly dropped when Elrond cut in with a warning and a question about the wisdom of these plans. He was dismissed along with Bilbo and Balin – or at least, Elrond whisked Gandalf away with him, no words spared for the others. Bilbo disappeared almost right away, and Thorin parted ways with Balin.

He took the time to wander freely, mulling over the new information from the map. This preoccupation was replaced when after a time he spotted Bilbo at the top of a set of stairs. He supposed he ought to talk to the hobbit, so he made his way up. Then the voices of Elrond and Gandalf carried through the night air. They were speaking of the quest, and Gandalf at least was defending the journey to reclaim Erebor.

Bilbo turned just as the conversation turned to Thorin himself. The hobbit and dwarf made eye contact, and Bilbo pivoted back to face the speakers.

Elrond was speaking of the gold-sickness and the madness of the Durin line. Thorin wished desperately that Bilbo was anywhere but here. It wasn't that it was a closely-guarded secret so much as a fact that wasn't spoken about so frankly or openly. It was painful. Thorin was struck with the inkling that this how Bilbo had been feeling for the last week or so.

When the voices faded away, Bilbo didn't move. He clearly didn't want to make it any more awkward for Thorin than it already was. So Thorin took it upon himself to speak once he was able.

“We leave before the first light of dawn. Be ready or be left behind.”

He went away as hastily as he could while maintaining some scrap of dignity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I wasn't expecting the response to the first chapter! I've decided to continue on for the time being. Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome! ^^
> 
>  
> 
> And now for some anatomy musings...
> 
> I imagine that Bilbo's wings would be controlled by smooth muscle tissue, which would mean that he can control his wings, but that they will also act on their own in times of stress. But then I run into the problem of the fact that I have no understanding of how smooth muscle attaches to the rest of the body. Connective tissue? My education in anatomy and physiology is woefully incomplete.


End file.
